


Every Kiss

by IzzieGS



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, gerald the homophobe, its not that bad though, its supposed to be a mostly happy story, thats his whole purpose, theres not enough aaric in the world, types of kisses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 15,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzieGS/pseuds/IzzieGS
Summary: “But like every kiss, this one is an answer, a clumsy but tender answer to a question that eludes the power of language.” ~Sándor MáraiAKA: A series of one-shots focused on Aaric and different types of kisses





	1. Hand Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first story on AO3 since 2015 and my first ever TWD fic. 
> 
> Seemed like adding another Aaric story to the (tragically small) list would be a good way to kick off the new year!
> 
> This is following a list that I will link to when I find a working link.
> 
> Enjoy!

The scorching summer sun beat down on the small group of people gathered in the makeshift meeting area, hanging heavy in the air and heating the metal chairs the Alexandrian residents arranged into a semi-circle around their leader. Deanna’s gaze swept across the crowd, checking for any last comments. The initial goal of the town had been accomplished, the first four walls raised into a steady shield around the buildings. Now came the decision on what to do next. Did they expand or reinforce? Focus on securing new buildings or improving the ones they already had? Were they even stable enough to bring in more survivors yet? Every individual was encouraged to share their own opinion, from Natalie’s frantic whispers and nervous glances at the large metal panels towering by her side to Tyler’s compelling argument of a shrug and a mumbled, “I don’t know. Whatever, I guess.” 

 

Finally, after a burning, dragging hour, there was no one else left to speak. Satisfied with what she had heard, Deanna turned and walked back to her home, presumably to figure out a plan for the progression of her town. Slowly, the others followed in her lead, pulling themselves off their sticky seats and in the direction of their own houses. Normally, the Alexandrians would be rushing to get back to the comfort of cool air inside. Since Jeremy explained how to secure working power throughout the town, the community had flowed in relative harmony, without any of the needless complaints that accompany sweat and sunburns. It was a generally pleasant life, if one ignored the constant threat looming outside the walls. 

 

The sun has a way of ruining someone’s mood, however, and makes loose tongues out of carefully polite personas. Aaron felt the heat on his back joined by sharp stares, following him and Eric as they walked away from the group. Some of their more… _cautious_ neighbors only started to walk when they felt the pair were far enough away to only just hear what they said. Irritated complaints and mostly-harmless comments quickly morphed into outright insults and slurs, growing progressively less discrete. Every word fell against Aaron like a punch, each look cutting through him as sharp as knives. 

 

Unconsciously, Aaron curled in on himself, shoulders drawing up, head lowering. Memories of those same words spit out through vodka-tainted breath, criticism of an unwanted burden. _Screams accompanied by isolation, by raised hand, by bloodied sinks, by—_

 

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Eric reached over and grabbed his hand, intertwined their fingers. “Hey there,” he whispered once he noticed Aaron looking at him. “Where’d you go?”

 

Eric’s soft, worried smile pushed back the lingering memories, pulled him fully into the present. He could hear footsteps a few feet behind, but no laughter, no talking. The group was probably listening to them, he realized, and just shook his head in response. Eric must have understood, seen the _“Later”_ in Aaron’s gaze, because he nodded slightly, looked ahead again.

 

Slowly the other residents broke off, going into the identical white houses lining the small pond. When the group had dissolved into only a few people, Eric paused again. “We really should do something about that.”

 

“About…?”

 

“The house. It’s so lifeless. Looks like there isn’t a single person actually living anywhere in this town, honestly. But maybe we could find something to, you know, make our new home ours.”

 

“We are not painting the house.”

 

“Oh of course not. Where would we even find enough paint around here? Just something small, maybe. Something personal.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

The remaining three neighbors jumped into the silence following Aaron’s agreement. “You hear that?” the loudest of the bunch, Gerald White, faux-whispered. “They’ve gotta get somethin’ to make it _personal._ ”

 

“Well I’m sure we can manage to gather enough pink paint if they change their minds,” Jake contributed, drawing laughs from the other two.

 

“And if they don’t, I saw a wind chime in Olivia’s storage earlier. I think it was covered in dragonflies, but those are close enough fairies, right?”

 

Aaron winced in response, felt the back of his eyes sting, his arms tense. Eric noticed the movement and squeezed his hand again, comforting. “It’s okay,” he whispered. He lifted Aaron’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

 

Warmth flooded through Aaron’s heart, not enough to completely erase the pain, but it did make the sharp stab duller. The cruel words drifted off as the couple finally walked up the steps into their own house. 

 

Not everything was okay— Aaron still heard one last, cruel laugh break out as the door slid closed. But right here, holding hands with the man he loved more than anything, safe inside their own home, he was alright.


	2. Cheek Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The easiest way to deal with your problems in the apocalypse? Alcohol. 
> 
> The easiest way to force yourself to think about things you don't want to? Alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So even with the prompts being kisses, I can't let Aaron and Eric be happy, it seems. But this time, Eric's the upset one, how fun.
> 
> BTW the first chapter and this one are both pre-TF, the 1st one being set in early Alexandria days and this one is a little further on. It's after Aaron and Eric have started recruiting others and Eric had to kill his first living person.
> 
> Enjoy!

Denise’s laugh echoed from the kitchen she emerged from, holding two more glasses full of dark red. She stumbled as she walked, feet catching on nothing, before crashing down on the couch next to Eric. The wine splashed dangerously with the movement, but none tipped over the edge onto the soft fabric below. “Why would he even— how did you— why?”

  
Eric’s surprised she could even get that many words out, jumbled as they were. Both of them had reached the point in their drinking where thoughts were soft and hard to keep hold of.

  
It had started the same as their other conversations: easy complaints about neighbors’ comments or a certain surgeon, carefully avoiding anything deeper than surface-level. Denying light to everything they both kept hidden in the dark corners of their minds. An offer, innocent at first, to continue the conversations over a drink. Which became three. Which became drinking and drinking until any whisper of anxiety or grief melted away.

  
And now Eric reached for one of the glasses in Denise’s hand, barely catching it correctly before she let go. Drops of the liquid rolled over the rim, settled on the crease between finger and thumb. They were so red. Deep red, like his mother’s hair. Sticky red staining his skin like the woman’s blood did when he—

  
Eric drank. Let the alcohol pour down his throat, rest warm in his stomach. It wasn’t enough to save him, nothing was. But it burned pleasantly enough to morph undead shadows into light memories of family holidays, at least briefly. He pulled his eyes away from the wine trailing down his hand, focused on Denise’s chuckles, broken by occasional hiccups that only made her laugh harder.

  
“I don’t know,” he finally answered, sleepy smile pulling on his own cheeks. “He swore there was nothing better than spicy gingerbread.”

  
“But who thinks spicy gingerbread is made with cayenne pepper?”

  
“Someone who’s had a little too much of the special eggnog.” Eric remembered the shouts from his cousins, their faces approaching the same shade as their bright, wispy hair. He shook his head, smile more sympathetic now, but still plenty amused. “Poor kids,” he mumbled. Denise started to drift off, missing the way his gaze grew distant again with the comment. She jolted up, stood with some difficulty, pulled herself through the living room to the front door. She said something, perhaps a standard farewell, but it wasn’t heard over the rush behind Eric’s ears. His eyes followed her blurry form, staggering across the short distance between their houses, but didn’t truly see any of it.

  
His thoughts were again drawn inward, this time images of children with carrot-tops and peeling faces, bony fingers grasping for him. The oldest of them would be twelve now, almost Hannah’s age. The thought of her finally cracks through the shield of alcohol and denial he built, pours out of him in the form of shaking tears.

  
So lost was he that he didn’t hear the front door click open again, the familiar footsteps approach from behind. A hand grasped an empty glass on the table pressed against the couch, tapped it against the edge. “Have someone over?” The voice sounded kind, joking, matching the smile that dropped when seeing Eric’s expression. “Hey, what’s wrong?”  
Eric glanced up at the man in front of him, caught between the home in him and the lingering memories of a sister he would never see again. “Aaron,” he said, or tried to say. The syllables came out weak, broken.

  
“Oh, honey,” Aaron sighed, caught Eric trembling hands in his now-open ones. The comforting gesture ripped a sob out of him. There he was, drunk and torn apart, and still Aaron looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  
“I—I just…” Eric struggled to word his thoughts before settling on silence and pressing his forehead against Aaron’s chest. He shook his head, wanting to focus on the hands pulling him back out of his mind and into the peaceful quiet of sleep.

  
Suddenly everything lurched as Aaron pulled him to his feet. He tried to hold himself upright, counter the swaying he felt in the ground, but one step forward and he collapsed into Aaron again. He ignored the mumbled comments about regrets in the morning, instead pushing his face further into soft flannel and letting his eyes drift shut.

  
“Come on now,” Aaron whispered against the top of his head. He wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled them both upright, pressing a soft kiss to salt-streaked cheeks. “Let’s get you to bed.” The two slowly made their way up the stairs towards the bedroom, leaving blood-soaked fears in glasses still left on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Denise bonded over hating the same people, one of the best ways to make a new friend. (Well, that and shared unhealthy coping mechanisms) 
> 
> The next chapter actually is happy Aaric and not angsty at all, I promise.


	3. Nose Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning from a recruitment trip generally means one thing: it's time to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! And this time, I bring no angst. Just a sleepy ginger and his dorky husband.
> 
> This is set in Alexandria after Aaron and Eric start recruiting, but pre-TF.
> 
> Enjoy!

Warm sunlight drifted in through the front window, pooling across the pictures hanging over the fireplace. The autumn breeze drifted by outside, rustling the leaves beside the pond but doing no real damage. A rare peace had settled over the town.

  
A well-worn book lay on the ground next to the couch, bookmark placed crooked between wrinkled pages. Dangling above the peeling cover was a loose hand, trailing up to a softly sleeping body. Eric had only planned on reading for an hour or so before starting on dinner, but the calm of the moment lulled him into an unplanned, but not unwelcome, rest.

  
He and Aaron had only returned to Alexandria the day before, after a week of short fitful nights broken by nightmares and keeping watch. The bags under his eyes felt heavy in a way they hadn’t been since the Beginning, and exhaustion had become a permanent state of being for him. Even after sleeping soundly the first night back in his own bed, Eric still found himself dozing in the quiet afternoon.

  
Aaron carefully walked through the back hall, trying not to smudge any black stains from his hands onto the nice white walls. He spent his day—after updating Deanna on the details of the latest recruitment trip— cleaning flecks of oil off intact mechanical pieces he managed to pull from motorcycle frames. He moved towards the kitchen sink to rinse his hands before pausing when he noticed the lack of a certain red-head. Eric said he would make them a “real meal” when they got back, and Aaron fully intended to help— if he were allowed— but he was nowhere in the open room.

  
Still in survival-mode from the road, Aaron crouched slightly and listened for any noise as he stepped lightly towards the living room. Eric liked to read there a lot during his free time, but he hadn’t responded to Aaron coming inside. Before he even passed the invisible divide between rooms, Aaron heard a small sound come from the couch. It was a sigh, followed by the shifting clothes and cushions. Aaron smiled and walked the rest of the way, making sure that he wasn’t too loud as he did so.

  
Eric always looked so peaceful when he was able to really relax, Aaron thought. His expression soft, unworried for a brief moment. He never allowed himself to let his guard down when he was awake, couldn’t afford to. Out on the road, if he ever managed to fall asleep, he would do so curled tightly, muscles still tense, hand outstretched towards the nearest weapon. Here though, he stretched out languidly, trusting that he was safe from harm within their home.

  
A rush of love overcame Aaron, still so surprising, even after the years they’d been together. Bending down, he gently kissed the bridge of Eric’s nose before he reached over and picked the book up off the floor, adjusting the bookmark so it wouldn’t accidentally fall out. When he moved to stand back up, he was greeted by dazed brown eyes.

  
“What time is it?” Eric slurred, voice still thick with sleep. He looked around the room as if it would help him figure out what he was doing on the couch.

“Not too late, dear,” Aaron assured, brushing his hand through Eric’s already tousled hair. “Why didn’t you just go to bed if you were so tired? Couch can’t be that comfortable.”

“Excuse you, this is the embodiment of post-apocalyptic _luxury_.” Eric patted the cushion next to himself and sat up. “And I didn’t mean to sleep. I was supposed to make dinner.” He frowned at the stretch of shadows caused by the setting sun.

“It’s fine. You need to catch up on your sleep, and one more night of canned dinner won’t be the end of the…” Aaron’s gaze fell on the window and their walled-up world beyond it. “Oh. Right.” He tried not to smile, but Eric’s disapproving expression shattered his attempts.

While Aaron laughed at his own bad joke, Eric looked up toward the ceiling and sighed. “I chose this. I did this to myself.”

Aaron laughed again and pressed his head into Eric’s shoulder. “Whatever. You love me.”

Eric sighed again, more fondly this time. “Yeah, I do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name a more iconic duo than Aaron and bad jokes.. I'll wait
> 
> Also, what are endings? I've never heard of them.
> 
> So I tried to do a cute moment, which I have not done in quite a while. 
> 
> I've already written the next chapter (which is also happy) so I hope there's not quite as long as a break between now and that being posted


	4. Forehead Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes winter mornings are better spent inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said there wouldn't be as long of a break between chapters. I'm a liar. I am really sorry though, and bring some Aaric fluff as an apology gift
> 
> This chapter doesn't have a set time (pre- or post-TF), it just exists in the world of sweet Aaric moments
> 
> Enjoy!

Snowflakes flurried past the frosted window pane, coating the empty street in a soft layer of white. The sun was just rising, dim rays barely peeking over the cold horizon. Some of the chill seeped in through the glass and settled on the couple peacefully sleeping inside. Thick blankets shifted as the temperature dropped, until both men were almost entirely buried under them.

 

“‘S cold,” Eric complained, voice muffled by sleep and the comforter pulled in front of his face. His brown eyes peered just over the edge, watching as Aaron rolled over in response.

 

“It _is_ winter.” Aaron glanced at the top of Eric’s head before he looked out the window, smiling when he saw the weather outside. “And the first snow of the season, it looks like.” He sat up, ready to check how much snow had fallen, but stopped when an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back down.

 

Aaron settled back into the pillows while Eric pulled himself closer, resting his head on Aaron’s chest. He listened to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear and closed his eyes again. “Comfy?” Aaron asked, laughter clear in his voice.

 

“Mhmm,” Eric nodded as much as he was able to without lifting his head. “You’re warm.” He pressed himself even closer to absorb the heat, not even noticing when his feet brushed across Aaron’s calves.

 

Aaron, however, jumped with the contact, feet kicking away from the shock of cold. Eric sat upright, looking down at his now-still boyfriend. “What was that?”

 

Aaron narrowed his eyes at the innocent expression above him. “Your feet are freezing.”

 

Eric’s expression shifted, slight guilt becoming visible even with a small smile. “Oh,” short laugh, “sorry.” He lowered himself back down, settling his head on Aaron’s chest again. This time, he made sure his feet stayed tucked behind his own legs.

 

Aaron laughed too, fake annoyance fading as he wrapped his arms around Eric’s shoulders, fingers digging into the red strands at the base of his neck. “We do have to get up eventually, you know. Even if it is cold.”

 

“Yeah, but later.” Eric’s eyes drifted shut once move. “Right now is time for cuddling.”

 

Well, Aaron wasn’t going to argue with that. Calm silence stretched between the two of them as Eric’s breathing slowed into a single, steady pattern. “Alright, my love,” Aaron whispered, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of Eric’s head. “Sweet dreams.”

 

Outside, the sun continued its climb and the world woke up, snow still dancing in the soft breeze. Cold air lingered in the bedroom, but couldn’t reach the two wrapped together. Aaron smiled once again before he finally allowed himself to fully settle, and drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know researchers believe the gene that causes ginger hair might also cause people to be more sensitive to the cold? Snowy winters must be fun for Eric
> 
> I swear I will not let another 6 month break happen between chapters. I'm trying to get better about, y'know, actually writing.


	5. Neck Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy and intoxicating painkillers don't mix well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's a great way of ignoring college applications and also a hurricane? Fanfiction. 
> 
> IDK when Aaron and Daryl started recruiting together but I remember when my sister broke her ankle she was on heavy painkillers for a while, so Eric's still taking quite a bit.
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric winced as he lowered himself onto the plush green cushions. He had just taken his afternoon dosage of pain pills, and knew it would be a while before they actually started to kick in. He heard Aaron and Daryl going over recruitment plans through the open office door, and scowled at the bandage foot propped up in front of him.

 

He was grateful there was someone to take his place—temporarily—but the idea of Aaron venturing outside the walls without him was terrifying. What if a group turned hostile and overpowered him? What if Daryl came back with nothing but a blood-speckled license plate? What if—Eric hated how Gerald’s voice snarled in his head. _What if he goes out there and realizes how much better Daryl is than you? I mean, who_ wouldn’t _choose the mysterious loner over the useless twink?_

Not that Eric thought Aaron would ever cheat on him; that love was one of the few things he was still certain of. He just… didn’t know Daryl yet. And the man _was_ decently attractive, Eric could admit when he allowed himself to (Which he did. Fairly often.).

           

By the time the biker went back to his own, terribly crowded home, the medicine had taken effect, leaving Eric’s thoughts a little too fuzzy. Aaron dropped onto the couch next to him, laughing out something about lightweights.

           

Eric turned towards him, trying to look offended despite his sluggish movements. When Aaron just continued laughing, Eric let his heavy head drop onto his shoulder. Sleep pulled at the edges of his thoughts, but he hadn’t gotten Aaron to himself all day. He planned on cherishing the time before Aaron left in the morning, but his floaty mind compelled him to do something else.

           

Tilting his head up, Eric pressed his lips to the soft skin of Aaron’s neck. Aaron’s next laugh came out a bit more breathlessly than the previous had. First feather-light pecks turned to open-mouthed presses. Aaron’s breathing got heavier until he was nearly panting, but he never moved to respond, just let Eric continue. On the next kiss, Eric stayed in place, sucking gently on the skin beneath his lips, lightly scraping his teeth against it as he pulled back.

           

Aaron hummed softly as Eric leaned back in, leaving red marks behind every time.

           

When he was finally done, Eric leant back to admire his work. Aaron’s neck was painted red and purple, and his cheeks were deeply flushed. Eric’s gaze roamed over Aaron’s body, his smile growing as he took in his partner’s debauched appearance.

           

Aaron finally turned towards Eric, pupils blown wide. Eric thought of how they could make the most of their time before he left, the beginnings of a blush rising to his own face. But his medicine _did_ make him tired, and Aaron would have to wake up early the next morning, and maybe Eric _was_ still feeling a little bitter about Gerald’s comments.

           

Eric leaned in toward Aaron, watching his blue eyes slip closed in anticipation. At the last moment, though, he turned and pressed his mouth close to Aaron’s ear. “Have fun with Daryl tomorrow.”

           

Then Eric stood up, leaving Aaron frozen alone on the couch as he limped up to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey the break between last chapter and this one wasn't 6 months again~ And I'm posting another immediately after as a hurricane double-whammy so yay for actual updates
> 
> Note: I actually tried to post this last night but my power went out in the middle of it so here it is now before the power messes up again


	6. Shoulder Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what else doesn't mix well? Gingers and the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the hurricane double-whammy. Poor Eric
> 
> Enjoy!

“I thought when I moved up North this wouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

           

“The sun still exists up here. You really want to escape? Move to Alaska. You’ll only have to worry half the year.”

           

“No, that’s too cold. My hands would freeze off.”

           

“Too hot, too cold. Can you think of anywhere that would be ‘just right,’ Goldilocks?”

           

“I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t. Maybe I’ll have to become a nomad to survive.”

           

“You’re ridiculous.”

           

“Well it’s not my fault I’m so sensitive. Blame my hair.” Eric slowly lowers himself onto the chair closest to the door. He moves stiffly, the way he does when trying to avoid brushing against too much. Aaron’s become much more familiar with the strange motions than he originally thought he would.

           

Aaron glances briefly back at him before continuing to the refrigerator. “Your skin’s actually redder than your hair is right now.”

           

“Shut up,” Eric whines, dragging out the second word. He tries to glare, but his watery eyes and burnt cheeks look more pitiful than anything else.

           

Aaron walks back into the living room, bottle of aloe gel in hand. He kneels in front of Eric and sets his unoccupied hand on a clothed knee. “It’s probably going to be easier if you take your shirt off.”

           

“You just want to get me topless,” Eric teases, but he winces as he pulls the white cloth over his head.

           

Aaron pours some of the green gel into his hand and hesitates before he reaches Eric’s arm. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, though this is far from the first time they’ve been in this position. Eric doesn’t respond aloud, but he does squeeze his eyes shut.

           

Aaron’s first touch is as soft as he can manage, but Eric hisses nonetheless. “I know, I know,” Aaron soothes, rubbing the cold substance into Eric’s hot skin.

           

Eric doesn’t move from his steady position, though his face stays screwed up in pain for most of the ordeal. As Aaron moves from his face to his neck, he speaks. “‘Let’s take care of the garden,’ he says. ‘It’ll be fun,’ he says.”

           

Aaron laughs and shakes his head, brushing his fingers over the last bit of red. “Alright, grumpy, I’m done.”

           

Eric just grumbles in response. Aaron leans back and picks up the aloe bottle. “If you think this part’s bad, just wait until it starts to heal.” Eric closes his eyes and groans. Aaron leans back in and presses a soft kiss to a pale, unburned shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be here to listen to you complain, and, apparently, remind you that you need to use sunblock.”

           

“There isn’t any left,” Eric mumbles. He still doesn’t open his eyes, and his bangs fall in front of one. He needs a haircut, Aaron notes. He just hopes it was thick enough to block most of the harsh sun from burning Eric’s head too.

           

“None? We’ll have to get Heath and Scott to look for some. I’m sure there’s SPF 100 somewhere around here.”

           

“Ha ha. But seriously, I’m not going out for long until we have _something.”_

           

“At least we’ve still got this.” Aaron shows off the bottle and moves to place it back on its shelf in the fridge. As he does, a small, pained “Thank you” comes from the living room.

           

“You’re welcome, Cheddar Biscuit.”

           

“Nope. Never mind. I take it back.”

           

Aaron just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheddar Biscuit=Red Lobster btw
> 
> I've written up to chapter 10 so at least know there will be an update eventually. I'm not going to promise it'll be any time soon, because I know myself, but it will probably not be 6 months from now. Probably.
> 
> Hope any of y'all that were/are in Irma's path stay(ed) safe!!


	7. Collarbone Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy mornings and important questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is absolutely ridiculous but I don't care because the boys should be allowed to be soft and ridiculous sometimes.
> 
> This chapter is after Aaric started recruiting, pre-TF.
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric wakes slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes and taking in the early morning light. Aaron’s heart beats steadily beneath his ear. His head rests against his partner’s chest and he tries to stay still, not wanting to wake Aaron just yet. He can’t help but tighten his arms just slightly around him, though.

 

The routine snores filling the room almost lull Eric back to sleep, but he shifts again when they stop. Neither of the two really move, putting off the real beginning of their day in favor of basking in sleepy peace.

 

Eventually, Aaron makes like he’s going to sit up, but Eric pushes him back down into the mattress and finds himself higher up, face falling against Aaron’s shoulder.

           

“Are we heading out tonight?” The skin under Eric vibrates with Aaron’s voice, still thick with sleep.

           

“We should be.”

           

“So this is our last morning home for a while, then. Might as well enjoy it.”

           

“Mhm.” To Eric, this sounds like a great idea, but he’s much too awake to try and go back to sleep.

           

“What’re you thinking? Big breakfast? Walk around the town?”

           

“This is nice.”

           

“Lazy.”

           

“We’re about to spend weeks running around woods that are crawling with undead to follow people who may or may not try to shoot us. I think we can afford to be lazy for a bit.”

           

“Can’t argue with that.”

           

The couple lies in quiet tranquility for a while, interrupted only by Aaron's occasional humming, watching the sun climb up the sky outside their window. Eric smiles softly and rests in the calm warmth until Aaron ruins the moment with a question.

           

“How do you think Kesha’s doing?”

           

Eric doesn’t respond aloud, just stares at Aaron incredulously.

           

“What? I’m serious. Celebrities had all kinds of special protection _before_ the apocalypse. How do you think they’re doing now?”

           

Eric shakes his head with a sigh, but answers. “LA was _full_ of people. Special protection or not, Kesha’s probably a roamer shambling through Hollywood.”

           

“Oh. Guess she did die young after all.”

           

Eric lets out a laugh he quickly stifles and starts shuffling blankets aside. “I can’t deal with you right now.” He shifts and presses a quick kiss to Aaron’s chest before sitting up fully. “How about that breakfast you mentioned earlier?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Raleigh, once again making awful jokes about the apocalypse. Because you've gotta deal with it all somehow.
> 
> I'm literally about to just like, spam post up to chapter 10 because I can.
> 
> Happy Día de los Muertos y'all (what a fitting day to post some Walking Dead fic)


	8. Back Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constant stress and soreness. Just an average experience under the Saviors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna throw out all these chapters are pretty short, which is why I'm posting so many of them.
> 
> This chapter isn't long after the Saviors have come through and taken all the mattresses from Alexandria
> 
> Enjoy!

“What’s got you so tense?”

           

Aaron flinches from the sound of a voice in the dark, emphasizing Eric’s observation. Even as he turns and smiles, his shoulders stay pulled tight. He opens his mouth to shrug off the concern, but Eric’s fiercely protective expression—visible even in the shadow of their room—makes him think better. “Just… everything’s _so much_ right now. The Saviors just keep coming and we barely have enough food for us and we don’t even have _beds._ ” He sighs and Eric is already up, pulling Aaron into a tight hug. “It’s so much.”

           

Eric rubs his hand in small circles between Aaron’s shoulders. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” He repeats the last statements, trying to convince himself as much as he is Aaron.

           

Aaron sighs and pulls back slightly—just enough to look Eric in the eye. “We will be. We always have been.”

           

“Yeah. The Saviors are just our new, post-apocalyptic mafia. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

           

The two laugh—not quite happily—and move to the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor that functioned as their bed. Just as Eric thinks he might have found a position comfortable enough to sleep in, Aaron moves heavily behind him, bringing him back to full consciousness. There’s a moment of stillness, and Eric begins to settle again.

           

When Aaron rolls over, this time with a small frustrated huff, Eric turns to face him. “What’s up?”

           

“I’m keeping you awake, aren’t I?” Aaron asks sheepishly.

           

“A little, yeah.”

           

“I’m sorry; I just can’t seem to relax.”

           

Eric thinks for a minute before sitting up abruptly. “Okay, I’ve got something that might work. Take your shirt off.”

           

“Ooh fun,” Aaron teases as he pulls the loose cloth over his head.

           

“Don’t get any ideas, mister. Lie down on your stomach.” Aaron laughs and does as he’s told.

           

Eric climbs up and straddles Aaron’s back, presses his hands into muscles straining under the weight of the world. “No oil, but…”

           

Aaron groans and slowly melts into the blankets as Eric’s thumbs loosen the knots in his shoulders. “It’s fine. It’s—” his next words are muffled as he shifts to be more comfortable. “Thank you.”

           

“Anytime, dear.” Leaning down, Eric kisses the now-relaxed area between Aaron’s shoulder blades. “Now let’s see if we can get either one of us to sleep tonight,” he says, and continues his hands’ course down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a time I had to sleep on the floor and let me tell you, it is not fun. Poor Alexandrians.
> 
> At least Aaron's got Eric to help him out


	9. Stomach Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apocalypse brought more problems than just the undead. A huge lack of food, for example

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the episode where Negan was first going through all their stuff, Olivia said the Alexandrians were already running low on food. Wanted to see how that affected these two
> 
> There's no specific time for this, just a fall after they've started running low on food
> 
> Enjoy!

Olivia looked guilty as she handed Aaron food rations in a plastic milk crate. He shifted the crate in his hands. It certainly did feel lighter than the ones before had been.

           

“We’re starting to run low, and they haven’t gotten back yet.” She nodded her head toward the front gate, where the supply runners had left a week before.

           

“Oh it’s no problem,” Aaron assured. “I’m just thankful you’re here doing what you can.” He made sure to smile and thank her again before leaving the garage they used as a food pantry.

           

Everyone had been so stressed lately, and Aaron knew some of the less-than-friendly residents had begun taking out their anger on Olivia, as if it would magically produce more food. He was hungry too, but every building he and Eric searched for supplies turned up empty; Scott and Heath were going out for longer and longer stretches of time. Any place within miles of Alexandria had been picked apart at one point or another. There wasn’t anywhere to get premade food and winter was quickly approaching. It didn’t set up good odds for their little town, but they would find a way to manage. They had to.

           

The moment Aaron stepped inside his house, the tension eased out of him, as it usually did when the warmth of home settled over him. He set the crate on the counter and started to really look through the food, listening as the shower upstairs turned off, followed shortly by footsteps down. Eric emerged from the hall in only sweatpants, hair still dripping.

           

“This week’s food?”

           

“Yeah. There’s…” Aaron paused to tally up his mental inventory, “about enough for two meals a day? Maybe?”

           

Eric sighed, but quickly schooled his expression into its normal, chipper appearance. “Alright then. Two a day it is.”

           

Normally, Aaron would acknowledge the façade, assure Eric he doesn’t have to pretend with him, but he’s distracted by other things. Namely, the veins clearly visibly through the near-translucent skin of Eric’s forearm as he reaches for vegetables, the way his ribs jut further out from his chest every time Aaron sees him. With the more they ran about, the less they were able to eat, the more Eric dropped weight he couldn’t afford to lose.

           

Eric returned to the counter, but paused before grabbing the next batch of food. “What’s up?” he asked, stepping closer to Aaron. “Is something wrong?”

           

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” Aaron’s hands settled on Eric’s waist, thumbs brushing his bottom ribs. His eyes linger on the sharp dip beneath them.

           

“I’m fine,” Eric assures, smiling softly to appease his husband’s worry. “And besides. Heath and Scott went out even further this time. I’m sure they’ll find _something._ ”

           

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Nerves still knot in his stomach, but he returns the smile.

           

“When am I not?” Eric jokes. He steps away from Aaron and pushes himself up onto the marble island. “But if we do get desperate…” He leans in conspiratorially. “I vote we eat Gerald first.” When he sits back, he pulls Aaron between his knees, rests his arms on his shoulders.

           

“Eric,” Aaron chastises, though he can’t help but laugh along.

           

“You’re right. He doesn’t have nearly enough meat to be worth it.”

           

“ _Eric._ ”

           

“I’m just kidding. We’ll be fine.” Eric’s stomach growls and Aaron feels his own twinge in response. He leans down and presses a kiss to Eric’s abdomen, grabs a box resting behind him.

           

“Yeah. We will be. Let’s start dinner.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I wrote this chapter months ago and after the most recent episode some of this stuff is a lot sadder. That sucks 
> 
> Also realized I switch between calling them each other's bf or husband depending on the chapter. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ They're both


	10. Hipbone Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Physical therapy sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing half the stuff I write about Eric's injury off of what happened when my sister broke her ankle. That included a lot complaining after every single physical therapy session
> 
> This is immediately after Eric gets freed from his boot
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric limps into the house, swearing as his leg knocks against the doorframe. He slams the door behind himself, careful to stay out of the way this time.

           

“So…physical therapy went well, I assume?” comes a joking voice. Eric shoots a glare at Aaron, who rests easily on the couch. “Oh. Denise work you that hard?”

           

Instead of responding, Eric shuffles around the sofa and flops down next to Aaron. He pulls his legs up as gently as he can and leans over to rest his head in his boyfriend’s lap. Immediately, Aaron combs his hands through ginger hair, twirls soft strands around his fingertips. He hums absentmindedly and rests his other hand on Eric’s chest, over his heart.

           

“How’s your ankle feel?”

           

“Awful,” Eric grumbles. “But at least I don’t have to wear that god-awful boot anymore.”

           

“That’s true. You’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

           

“I sure hope so. I want us to be able to go on walks again without having to stop all the time.” Eric shifts for a better resting position, wincing as the movement jostles his ankle. He stares up at the blank ceiling as Aaron’s hand resumes petting. Sleepy calm descends on the room. Eric’s eyes slip shut and he dozes—not quite asleep, but far from fully awake.

           

The laughter of children from the street outside gradually quiets as they retreat in with the sunfall. Eric drifts further away from consciousness until Aaron stops moving. When he peaks up, the brunet is looking over his shoulder at the kitchen.

           

“What’s up?” Eric asks.

           

“Do we have enough for dinner tonight?”

           

Eric pauses, goes over a mental list of their remaining food. “I don’t know. But,” his stomach cuts him off with a low, painful growl. “I think we can make it work.”

           

Aaron looks concerned, but he smiles. “Okay. You have to get up though.”

           

Eric groans at the idea, but his stomach makes another noise, louder than him. “Fine.”

           

Aaron stretches his arms up and Eric turns his head, tiredly kissing the small strip of skin that’s revealed.

           

“Let’s eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I've finished a few chapters with Aaron and Eric preparing to eat. Maybe it's because I like to imagine them actually taking care of themselves.
> 
> So that's the end of this update-spam, as well as the end of the body-part-based prompts. The next two are emotion-based, and will most likely be posted Sunday
> 
> Hope y'all's weekends are good!


	11. Sad Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apocalypse is tough. Grief is tougher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was tragic. Who's here for more sadness???
> 
> I am, because I thrive on angst.
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric stares at the place where Olivia once stood. Or, rather, he imagines he does. He can’t really see it here, through his window, but it’s burned in his mind. She was there: protective, worried for her child, relieved. Then she wasn’t. Her. Spencer. The gun in his own face. Aaron, so hurt he couldn’t stand alone.

           

It’s too much. There are monsters devouring their town, and these ones are alive. They are trapped under a volatile dictator with a cocky strut and an army, a leader that refuses to act.

           

_But what could Rick do?_

_Something. Anything._

           

“I don’t know what I should do.” He talks to the glass and almost expects it to fog over, despite the warm day. He feels cold. Frozen.

           

He’s shivering and the world is blurry at the edges. He lifts his hand to prove he still can—prove he’s still real—touches his cheek. It’s slippery, wet. _Why is he so cold? When did he start crying?_ He knows he is now and can feel the sobs starting to claw their way to his throat. He presses his palm hard against his mouth to stifle them. Aaron is sleeping on the couch nearby. He needs the rest, he reminds himself, but the tears refuse to stop.

           

Denise, the friend whose heart overpowered her fears. Glenn, the man who defended Aaron when he and Rick first fought. Abraham, the joker he never really talked to but knew enough about to know he didn’t deserve that. No one does.

           

Eric can’t blink the water out of his eyes long enough to see clearly anymore, collapsed down into the living room armchair. He still tries to muffle his cries, but they are ripping through him, his breaths are too heavy to be quiet.

           

Maggie, his savior that helped just because she could, so unlike these “Saviors.” Her baby, the sign of hope they need that is already in danger. Daryl, the unexpected housemate with the fraying vest and _terrible_ table manners, now trapped…somewhere by these people. Aaron, beaten but still optimistic, asleep on the couch.

           

Aaron, shifting like he’ll sit up but just groaning in pain and settling back down into the couch. “Eric?” he asks and he’s so gentle, like he always is.

           

_Focus on yourself. You’re the one that’s hurt. I’m fine._

           

Eric tries to speak, but all that comes out is another choked-off sob.

           

“Eric,” Aaron repeats, more sure this time. Still soft. “Come here.”

           

Despite his growing guilt, Eric crawls over to Aaron without hesitation, presses his face into the closest shoulder—not too injured, he hopes—and let’s go. All the pain he tried to bottle up and shove deep inside himself the way he usually does rushes out suddenly, gasping and sharp.

           

Slow, stiff fingers of one hand card through his hair while the ones of another tangle with his own. “I know,” Aaron mumbles, presses a kiss to his forehead. He lifts their joined hands and sets Eric’s on his bruised chest, right above his heart. It still beats, strong and steady. Eric watches the rise of fall of Aaron’s breaths, sees his hand’s shaking lessen, then still.

           

“I’m here. I’m okay,” Aaron reassures. He’s not, Eric knows, not really, but he’s alive. It’s better than it could have been. _Would have been, without Tara._ Aaron leans in again, kisses first one wet cheek, then the other.

           

Eric’s breaths inch back to normal. Air still catches every few moments, but he’s actually gaining oxygen again, losing a tiny bit of his light-headedness. Aaron’s taken up a mantra. “We’re alive. We’re okay,” he repeats, over and over, presses a kiss to a different part of Eric’s face after each iteration. Eric wonders how much of it he’s saying for himself.

           

“We’re okay,” Aaron says again, and this time they both lean in. They meet, broken and exhausted, trapped on the couch or knelt uncomfortably next to it, tragically grateful they have a chance to see the sun rise again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm sorry (kinda), but at least they're alive, right?
> 
> I'm about to immediately post another chapter: happy kisses. So don't worry


	12. Happy Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas at Alexandria, and a certain ginger is fully embracing the holiday spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo we're going to act like none of that happened now.
> 
> How about some Aaric Christmas, post-apocalyptic style???
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron wakes and, unsurprisingly, finds himself alone. Eric had spent the last week bounding around with some plan he refused to explain beyond laughs and a light “You’ll see.” Aaron always shook his head and watched him go; he’d learned years ago to just let Eric do his own thing when he got like this.

           

Aaron sits up and is greeted by an outfit draped across the foot of the bed. There’s a green sweater, his nicest pair of jeans. He sighs, but reaches down and pulls them on easily. He stumbles down the hall, still not fully awake, but stops at the top of the stairs. They’re lined with small, twinkling lights. “What is this?” he calls down. The only answer is the shuffle of tins in the kitchen.

           

Aaron descends and stops once again when he glimpses the living room. There are more lights wrapped between license plates, and crinkled tinsel slung around the bookshelves. A tiny plastic tree rests on the table, balanced on a stack of books. Eric is bustling about the kitchen, putting away a plate of cookies, a pot of chicken, a jug of juice. “No milk, I’m afraid. All that’s _long_ gone.”

           

“Eric,” Aaron tries again. “What is this?”

           

Eric lays out two plates of breakfast—toast with jam, fresh peach juice—smiles at the snow outside before turning back to Aaron. “It’s Christmas!”

           

Eric’s expression is open and cheerful in a way that Aaron’s only rarely seen since the Beginning. It’s contagious, and he mimics him. “Oh? Is it?”

           

“Mhmm.”

           

Aaron looks around at the food, and while his stomach growls in eager anticipation, he also feels guilt begin to bud within him. “This looks great, but you shouldn’t have done all this alone.”

           

“Don’t worry. I didn’t. Olivia and the girls helped out too. I _did_ have to put up with Mrs. Neudermeyer’s usual complaints, but she makes some amazing jam.” Eric chatters as he sits in his own chair. “We made out own things and then split them all up among ourselves.”

           

“I still feel bad for not helping.”

           

“Don’t worry, you can make up for it when it’s time to clean up. Now come eat.”

           

Aaron sits down and tears into his food, smiling up at Eric as he does. “It’s good.”

           

“I’d hope so. Seriously, how much can one woman talk about a pasta maker?”

           

They both laugh, and Eric reaches beside himself to pull out a small box.

           

“No. Nope. I didn’t even know it was Christmas. I don’t have anything for you. This isn’t fair.”

           

“Sure you do. Just look.” The box is pushed into his hands and Aaron glances inside. “Remember that camera you found a while ago? I think this paper might work in it. We could take pictures around town for potential groups; maybe get one of the two of us to put somewhere. It’ll be fun! And see? We couldn’t try this if you hadn’t found that camera in the first place. So you don’t have to worry about any sort of gift.”

           

Aaron accepted the placation for the time being, mostly because Eric is already rushing into the living room He hunches over something and the beginnings of bells and soft music quickly follow. Eric extends a hand back to the kitchen.

           

“Dance with me.”

           

Aaron jumps up and the two slip into their usual spins, Eric leading their way around the room. As the song fades, they pause in the study’s doorway. Eric looks up and smiles blindingly at the ceiling. Aaron doesn’t have to follow his gaze to know what’s above them. “I’m not even going to ask where you got mistletoe.”

           

“Well, we couldn’t break tradition, could we?”

           

“Oh no,” Aaron agrees dramatically. “Of course not.”

           

Eric chuckles and they both lean in, kiss more smiles than actual kissing. They pull back slightly, rest their foreheads against each other softly. “Merry Christmas,” Aaron murmurs. Sweet music still swirls around them; snowflakes flurry in the sky. The two share carefree laughs and begin to dance once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK about y'all, but I'm crying. Trying to just imagine happy times between these two.
> 
> That was tragic, but I hope the rest of y'all's week is good!!


	13. Sweet Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes chocolate is the best way to wash away an annoying day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I think I've been writing this story more than ever since I found out Eric got shot. Probably not a good thing. Now I'm just using it to forget the pain. Oh well. Better late than never, right?
> 
> This chapter is actually set pre-apocalypse. They've got like, jobs and stuff.
> 
> Enjoy!

The lock clicks undone behind him and Eric glances up from his laptop. Aaron waltzes in the room holding a plastic grocery bag. Eric doesn’t pay much mind to it, instead turning back to his screen.

           

“Welcome home, honey. How was work?” The words are repeated every day, like clockwork, but Eric makes sure he genuinely listens for an answer.

           

“Fine mostly, but I swear some of these people love being clueless. I know ignorance is bliss and all, but it’s almost more than I can bear.”

           

“Don’t I know it. Been writing emails all day and some of these guys absolutely _refuse_ to cooperate.”

           

Aaron nods and reaches into the bag. “Thought it might’ve been mutual. That’s why I got these.” He pulls out a clear container of chocolate-covered strawberries.

           

Eric hits send on the message he’s typing and jumps up to join Aaron in the kitchen. He slides behind him, wraps his arms around his waist. “You’re so sweet.”

           

Aaron shrugs. “Somewhat. Mariel mentioned them earlier and I really started craving them.”

           

“Oh. Of course.” Eric laughs and grabs a single berry by its soft leaves. But rather than raise it to his own mouth, he presses it to Aaron’s lips. Aaron bites into it, keeps eye contact as a small drop of pink juice trickles from the corner of his mouth. Some of it rests on his lips and Eric leans in to kiss it off. Their kiss deepens, their tongues tangle together and transfer sweetness between the two men.

           

They pull back for air and Aaron immediately reaches over for another berry.  He drags it softly across Eric’s cheek, leaving behind a cold trail, before passing it quickly over Eric’s lips. His tongue flickers against the cool shell and he moves to bite it, but Aaron pulls back and eats it himself. He smirks, asks innocently: “Did you want that? Sorry.”

           

Eric rests his hands on Aaron’s chest. “Yes, in fact. I did.” He moves toward Aaron, pauses when their faces are inches apart. “Still do.” He closes the small distance with a heated kiss, such a contrast to the cold chocolate still on Aaron’s tongue.

           

They spend the afternoon exchanging kisses and trading treats. The laptop pops with another email notification and Eric clicks it shut. “They can wait.” He leans against the table’s edge, watches at Aaron approaches with the last strawberry, top buttons of his shirt hastily undone.

           

He stops when their chests meet, leans over Eric, who is slowly slipping backwards. “Yes,” he agrees. “They can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Bout to hit y'all with that four chapter update because I don't want to acknowledge colleges exist~
> 
> Yeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh (BTW, Mariel=some random name I came up for some random co-worker Aaron has)


	14. Angry Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Eric had gotten hurt. But it was an accident. He doesn't want to suddenly be treated like he's made of glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt says "Angry Kisses" but they're not still angry when they kiss but I don't care.
> 
> This is right after they've brought TF into Alexandria.
> 
> I didn't actually write the fight because I don't like to imagine my boys fighting, but here's the aftermath of a fight.
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric sits fuming on the couch alone. He hears Aaron loudly clattering about in the kitchen, but he refuses to acknowledge him. The ruckus finally settles, followed by heavy quiet. Eric flips to the next page in his book a little harsher than necessary, not truly reading.

           

Finally, Aaron’s voice cuts through the tense air. “Eric.”

           

Eric doesn’t glance up. “Yes, Aaron?” Even he can hear the lingering sharpness in his voice.

           

Loud footsteps pick up and stop to Eric’s right. He still doesn’t look up. “Eric.”

           

“What, Aaron?”

           

“Look at me.”

           

Eric slams the book shut, turns to face Aaron. He tries to prevent a full glare, but still feels a frown tugging on his expression.

           

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

           

“Oh no, of course not. Why would it be?”

           

“Don’t be like that.”

           

“Like _what,_ Aaron?” His voice is dark, rough. A warning.

           

For the first time since they started arguing over dinner, Aaron doesn’t respond. _Smart man,_ thinks Eric.

           

The silence stretches on and Eric feels the anger slowly ebb away, replaced by crushing exhaustion. He sighs. “I know you’re worried. But I sure as hell don’t want you going out by _yourself_.”

           

“I know—”

           

“And I don’t want to be treated like I’m some helpless damsel. I made a mistake. I was reckless. I know. I’m sorry. But I’m not just going to sit around like some army wife waiting for when you return.” He doesn’t say _if._ His foot, still wrapped tight and panging with every too-deep breath, is a reminder enough for both of them.          

           

“I didn’t ask you to.”

           

Eric just keeps eye contact, raises his eyebrows in question.

           

“That’s not what I meant.”

           

“I don’t want you going out by yourself.”

           

“We don’t know how long it’s going to take you to heal. We can’t just stop recruiting indefinitely.”

           

Eric sighs again. “I don’t like this.” He feels like he’s falling, completely helpless. Aaron’s already bouncing on his feet again—normal anxious energy he gets when he’s stuck inside the town for too long. Eric knows he’ll find some way out, even if it means joining Aiden’s crew. The idea alone is enough to make Eric’s heart stop short. “What about one of them? The new guys?”

           

“What?”

           

“They know how to survive out there. They’re loyal. You saw that biker guy, they care. And there’s got to be at least one of them itching to get back out there. Probably more.”

           

“So…what? I ask Mr. Lone Wolf to start going out there with me?”

           

“Until I’m better,” Eric adds.

           

Aaron presses his lips together, but doesn’t respond, instead returning to the main subject. “What if he doesn’t want to help just…’cause?”

           

Eric glances at the garage and shrugs one shoulder. “We got a bike. Kind of. Seems like the kind of guy who’d know what to do with all that.”

           

“I could see that. He’d be good to fight by and all, but he’s also very…Southern.”

           

“Okay. How about you give it a day or two to try and catch him alone and get to know him a little better? You get any bad feelings about him, try someone else.”

           

“I have a feeling that might be difficult.”

           

“Well then it’s a good thing you’re so good at making people like you, isn’t it? Even when they’re annoyed with you.”

           

Aaron looks down at the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry.”

           

“Thank you. For worrying about me. But you know you can trust me too.”

           

“I do trust you. I just—” Aaron pauses. His hands have started shaking again. He takes a deep breath. “Sorry.”

           

Eric nods, smiles slightly when Aaron steps over and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. The other man walks out, likely on his way to find the dark loner. Eric picks his book back up and flips to the page neatly marked with a torn envelope. Maybe this time he’ll actually read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Aaric = Sad Me, but Aaron definitely seems like the type to get TOO over-protective and Eric's gotta stand up for himself sometimes
> 
> Next two chapters are both mostly happy though, so no more upsetti Spaghetti Dads


	15. Good Morning Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning dorks being dorky in the early morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron's a loser and I love him and can relate. Eric is a morning person and I love him too, but relate slightly less.
> 
> This is seriously just them goofing off during a recruiting run.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sun shines through the small window and slides over Aaron’s once-peaceful face. Now he throws one arm over his eyes with a groan. He feels Eric stretch with a quiet sigh next to him.

           

“Mm…Good morning,” Eric greets, cheery as ever despite just waking up.

           

Aaron grumbles and sits up himself. “It will be once I have coffee.”

           

Eric scrunches his nose with a smile. “And once you’ve brushed your teeth.”

           

Aaron frowns briefly before his expression morphs into something much more determined and he grabs Eric’s shoulders. He leans in, but Eric presses his hands against Aaron’s chest and stops his movement. “No you don’t. You stay over there.”

           

Aaron continues trying to move forward, but Eric remains steady. “Babe,” Aaron whines, “Don’t you love me?”

           

“You know I do. But I love you a lot more without morning breath.”

           

Aaron removes his hands and drops sideways back onto the mattress. He watches as Eric stands up and shuffles around the tiny room to prepare for the day.

           

“You do have to get up eventually, you know. We’ve got to see if there are any groups running through these woods.” Eric slips up to the RV’s small kitchenette and starts the coffee maker. When he returns, hot mugs set neatly on the table behind himself, Aaron in still in the same position, his eyes now shut. He shakes Aaron’s shoulder. “Why won’t you get up?”

           

“I was cursed to sleep forever.”

           

“And let me guess, it just so happens the only way to lift it is a kiss?”

           

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check?”

           

“You sure are talking a lot for someone who’s asleep.”

           

“It’s magic.”

           

Eric rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

           

This time, Aaron stays quiet.

           

“There could be a group passing us right now. Could be a big group. Maybe some kids. Maybe they’ve even got some puppies. We may miss the last group of puppies ever because you refuse to get up.”

           

Silence.

           

Eric groans, long and drawn out. “Fine.” Aaron’s mouth twitches into a small smirk. Eric leans down and presses a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. He tries to sit back up but Aaron holds him down, pulls them into a longer kiss.

           

“Good morning.”

           

“Your coffee’s cold.”

           

Aaron smiles. “Totally worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they're in the middle of the woods after the end of the world, but Eric isn't just going to let his husband ignore common courtesy (like brushing your teeth BEFORE dramatically making your partner kiss you).
> 
> I wish there were some post-apocalyptic puppies (y'know, that don't get eaten). Aaron and Maggie deserve them.


	16. Good Night Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just Denial™ the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The inevitable fix-it chapter for the Episode That Shall Not Be Named (might end up being one of a few. Don't know yet).
> 
> So here's the Raleigh family chilling together on a normal night.
> 
> Enjoy!

The night is cool upon the town. Silhouettes—struggling to stay fully awake—march back and forth along the tops of wooden walls. Stars twinkle in abundance, so much clearer now that cities have been forced to retire. Everything is quiet beyond the slight shuffle of hooves along hay grounds in the stable.

           

A peaceful air has fallen on the small trailer holding three. Eric rests his head heavy on Aaron’s shoulder, finally able to sleep after the seemingly endless period of waiting for painkillers to kick in. Fireflies float beside the couple’s window in a sweet nightly dance. All is calm.

           

Or, all is calm until a shrill screech breaks through the still once again. Aaron’s already sitting up, but only worries when he feels Eric move too. “Shh,” he calms, rests his hand on top of copper hair. “It’s just Gracie. Keep sleeping. I’ve got it.”

           

Eric mumbles something undiscernible and burrows further into their blankets. Aaron smiles, glad they have a real bed for Eric to sleep on while he finishes recovering.

           

It couldn’t have been comfortable, Aaron thinks, to take any sort of hit from a bullet. Eric never let the extent of his pain show, though. Even while bleeding out against that tree, rocking in the bumpy car ride to the Kingdom, holding a kicking baby to his still-healing chest. He just grit his teeth, took a breath, and smiled. He always has.

           

“At least I have that much,” he’d said in the small house that functioned as a makeshift hospital. “At least I’ve got this.”

           

Aaron’s shaking by the time he picks his crying daughter up and holds her to his chest. _So close_ , his mind repeats, the way it has since he first saw red, too much red against green fabric. _So close to losing him._

           

“Everything’s okay,” he mumbles. He bounces Gracie as her formula warms in the microwave. “You’re okay. Daddy and I are okay. Everything’s fine.”

           

They talked about becoming parents sometimes, Before. The idea of a child to raise, to bring to their first day of kindergarten, to shelter in love and the sure knowledge they have both of their dads wrapped around their tiny finger was always enough to make Aaron’s heart warm. “We’d have to settle down a little, though. Stop traveling so much. Get married. We'll have to wait a while.”

           

Aaron knew Eric was right, but the world is different now. Everyone’s fighting, moving back and forth between battle and home. Every adult is equally as in danger, equally as reckless. And the last part, well—Aaron smiles back at the lump of blankets on the bed—they haven’t had to worry about that for a while.

           

Gracie’s calmed down to sniffling, and Aaron places the bottle gently in her mouth. She gulps the food down as fast as her tiny body allows. Aaron breathes out, lets himself relax for the time being. All things considered, he’s lucky. Incredibly so. He can tell the gash along his cheekbone will scar. His best friend has a target on her head. His husband is sleeping off a gunshot wound through the abdomen. Everything is so close to collapsing, but they’re alive. They’re all alive.

           

Aaron burps the baby, grateful when she keeps everything down. He sets her down in her crib with a quiet, “Good night. Please stay asleep.”

           

One day, she’ll be old enough to shake them awake when her dreams of the monsters outside get too scary. She’ll shove her way between them and sleep peacefully because she knows no harm can reach her past them. Or else, she’ll wake them and Eric will carry her back to her own bed, sing her lullabies his mother sang to him when _he_ was young until she drifts back to sleep.

           

One day, she’ll learn the full danger of what’s beyond the wall. But it will be okay because “an army demanding tribute” will not be on that list.

           

One day, she’ll be old enough to move on by herself—or with someone else—and they’ll cry over how old their baby’s gotten, but they’ll be so proud of what a wonderful woman she became.

           

One day. For now, though, Gracie sleeps in her crib, tightly bundled in a colorful blanket an older Hilltop woman knit as a welcome gift. Aaron lays back down in bed and Eric squints up at him.

           

“How is she?”

           

Aaron smiles, softly kisses Eric’s forehead. He whispers back, “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so great to just ignore canon and act like everything's okay. Really refreshing. 10/10 would recommend (On that note, Shiva is also completely fine)
> 
> Hope y'all have a great week!! Don't think I say it enough, but thanks for reading!!!


	17. Hello Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there are problems that can only be solved by washing yourself clean of them. 
> 
> Sometimes those problems arise because you slipped and fell in a sewer tunnel beneath your town.
> 
> Sometimes you make mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been quite a while since I last updated, but now the holidays and my birthday have all passed, so I hope some writing can happen now.
> 
> There are two chapters being posted real quick together. The first one (this chapter) is mostly happy. The other one is...not (but don't worry about that right now). This chapter doesn't even really fit the prompt but oh well.
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron trudges toward the house sometime in the afternoon. The first thing Eric notices is the water dripping off his coat, the wet footprints he leaves behind. Eric’s already preparing his speck on how Aaron is coming nowhere _near_ their house until he’s showered at least _twice_ , when he notices something else: a small line of blood running down from Aaron’s temple.

 

Eric doesn’t see Maggie with him and immediately fears the worst. The two hadn’t been gone long enough to have actually found anything. Why had Aaron come back early? What happened to his head? _Where is Maggie?_ His anxiety builds until he sees Aaron’s expression. More than anything, he just looks annoyed with the grime coating his clothes. He occasionally shakes his arms, wincing at the thick drops that fling off him.

 

“Alright. That’s close enough, mister,” Eric calls from the porch.

 

Aaron stops and makes a face: half apologetic smile, half grimace. “I may have made a mistake.”

 

“I can see that. Where’s Maggie?”

 

“At her house. Probably showering.”

 

_I’d hope so._ “Speaking of which…”

 

“I know, I know. I’ve just got to—” Aaron steps toward the house again, but Eric holds up a hand to stop him.

 

“Leave your jacket, shoes, and socks out here. I want you tracking as little of _that_ in here as possible.”

 

Aaron nods and finally steps onto the porch. His foot barely touches the first step before Eric runs into the house, calling behind himself, “I’ll go grab your clothes! Don’t touch anything outside of the bathroom!”

 

Wet footsteps tap to the downstairs restroom and Eric moves upstairs. He pulls out one of Aaron’s worn-thin tank tops, one of his softer flannels. The sound of running water beneath Eric’s feet has never been so welcome. He goes back down, leaves the clean clothes in a stack on the bottom step, and detours into the kitchen. There, he grabs a garbage bag and hand towel that is already ripping along a lower seam. It won’t be missed. He throws the towel on the wood floor and drags it over the puddles trailing to the bathroom with his foot.

 

After the floor is relatively dry, Eric picks the cloth up—careful to grab the as-of-yet unmarred corner—and takes it with the bag into the steamy restroom. Eric scoops Aaron’s dirty clothes into the bag with the towel, then ties it off with everything inside. “We’re not even going to try with these. They’re done. Gone. Hope you weren’t too attached to them.”

 

Aaron says something about his jacket as Eric pulls the bag out back and drops it next to the garage door. He wonders what they _will_ do about the blue coat. On one hand, Aaron loves it. On the other, Eric would like nothing more than to just throw the thing in a fire with the rest of the ruined rags. He thinks Aaron might just have to live with the other blue jackets he has.

 

He moves the clean clothes into the bathroom and smiles when he hears Aaron softly singing to himself. He slides the shower curtain aside to speak, deciding to linger even as he feels the humidity begin to weigh his hair down. “So what happened?”

 

Aaron tilts his head back into the spray, hissing when some of his generous layers of shampoo rinse into the cut on his forehead. “Couple of walkers paid us a surprise visit. I slipped. It was…bad. It was really bad.”

 

Eric nods, even though Aaron’s eyes are closed. “I can imagine.”

 

“We didn’t find him.”

 

“I assumed so. But Glenn’s tough. I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

Aaron nods slowly before suddenly jerking upright and meeting Eric with a blinding smile that seems out of place in the moment. “I almost forgot. She’s pregnant! Maggie’s pregnant!”

 

“Really? That’s amazing. Those two are going to be great parents.”

“They really will be.” A light but longing silence drifts over them as Aaron finishes his shower. It’s the same silence that came each time one of their friends announced new additions to their families, or the first time they babysat Judith and Eric noticed how naturally Aaron looked cradling the infant to his chest. The silence meant “one day” Before, but they both know the chances of having their own child now are not in their favor. Still, the desire persists.

 

The spray slows, then stops and Eric’s snapped out of his thinking. “All clean?”

 

“As clean as I will be. Which means…” Aaron leans past the curtain and puckers his lips in an exaggerated motion.

 

“Alright, alright.” Eric laughs and pecks Aaron quickly, trying to avoid getting water on his clothes. “Welcome home.” He does reach one hand up and brush back Aaron’s bangs to check the gash above his eyebrow, still open and beading up with blood. “You need to get that checked out. I’ll figure out what to do with your clothes.”

 

“Okay.” Aaron begins pulling on his dry clothes, but pauses when Eric turns to leave. “Seriously, though. Please don’t destroy my jacket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I always wondered what happened after Aaron and Maggie came back home from wandering the sewers because they clearly showered and changed, but I can't imagine Eric was very happy. Or that slipping and falling in a sewer was very much fun (and then Maggie hugged him. Really.)
> 
> Also I thought Aaron was wearing his iconic blue jacket for most of the time spent writing this until I realized he was actually wearing a different blue jacket that just looks incredibly similar. Guess the man has a specific taste.


	18. Goodbye Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dying hurts. But the worst pain isn't the gunshot wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I do love me some fluff, but angst is fun to write every once and a while too. So there's this.
> 
> Enjoy!

_No more. It hurts. I need to sit. I need this to stop. It hurts._

           

The bark is rough against his back, but Aaron’s hands are so gentle as they wrap his jacket sleeves around his waist.  Eric slides down and tucks himself between roots, trying to ignore the fire burning in his abdomen. Aaron is tearing up and apologizing. His hands are shaking.

_Don’t cry. Please. Don’t blame yourself._

           

He cracks jokes just to see Aaron laugh again, watery as it is. It’s possible his own tears may come later, but he won’t let them until Aaron is gone. His chest is steadily tightening; air is harder and harder to take in. Even still, Eric focuses on keeping his breathing even and time it starts shortening. He can’t worry Aaron.

           

_I need you to go back._

_They need you to lead._

_I don’t want you to see…_

           

He’s preparing himself for the coming loneliness as he urges Aaron to leave. He feels a strange cross between relief and terror when the other man nods.

           

Aaron’s reassurance from before echoes in Eric’s head, “There’s an exit wound. That’s good.” Still, he pulls Aaron closer, forces his attention away from the pain and onto memorizing each slide of their lips against each other, how Aaron’s hair—damp with sweat—curls beneath his trembling fingers. They press their foreheads together and Eric is taken through every moment they’ve done the same thing before now. The stretch of silence only broken by Aaron’s heavy breaths after bruised knees and children’s chant and the wicked crack of a bat. The evening he’d come after months oversees and they both learned how grounding simple, solid contact could be. The small candlelit room, his ankle bound and Aaron beyond relieved. They’ve been in this position so many times before. Eric prays this will not be the last.

           

Aaron insists on including Eric in his victory, insists on being endlessly hopeful, and Eric hesitates. His fingers, still resting against the sides of Aaron’s neck, are steadily growing colder. He feels his own blood flowing out of him like lava. But even the burn in his gut is lessening. He can’t guarantee he’ll live to the end of the fight, but he needs Aaron to go. So he nods.

           

_“Tell me the truth.”_

           

His own request rises back up against him, but he can’t follow it. He can’t. He needs Aaron to go before he can’t mask the pain anymore.

           

“I always had a hunch.”

           

Eric’s rough words rush in a new train of memories: fifth date, movie night jokes, vows. He thinks maybe he’s dying too slowly for his life to flash before his eyes. Instead, it drifts by like a film that hasn’t been pieced together yet—individual clips playing out of order in front of him.

           

He smiles, and his resolve not to cry almost cracks when Aaron responds in kind.

           

_You need to go. Go fight._

           

Aaron finally stands and leaves with a final smile. Eric is glad he saw that instead of more tears, glad they parted with hope still in Aaron’s too-big heart. He drops his façade, allows the lingering pain of the shot to wash over him at last.

           

The unsaid “goodbye” rests heavy on his tongue and he wonders if he should say it out loud. Make it real.

           

This is goodbye, for now.

           

Eric just hopes it isn’t forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron is sad and canon is sad and I'm sad
> 
> But then it all turns out okay because this is fan fiction and we can make things however we want them to be.


	19. I Miss You Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NGO missions mean a lot of good things: helping people out, doing something good for the world, etc. But when only Aaron's away, it isn't good for a longing heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay the boys are sad again in this chapter but at least they aren't dying right? They just really love and miss each other.
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron sits down in his small room, soaked in sweat and exhausted from a long day working under the African sun. He had been prepared to just lay down and attempt sleeping on his stiff cot when he was handed a slightly crumpled letter. The familiar curl of his name on the front of the envelope causes him to automatically smile, even as his heart twinges.

           

“Dear Aaron,”

           

The letter starts off basic impersonal, but Aaron still re-reads the two words twice before unfolding the rest of the paper.

           

“How are you doing?

 

Work hasn’t changed much here. I got a couple new clients. Lost a long-time one though. She and the kids are moving to Illinois to be closer to family and take a break from the ‘hustle-bustle of big city life.’ I think living somewhere less crowded again could be fun. But we’ve both got work here; we can’t exactly up and leave all of a sudden. Still. Fun to think about. Maybe one day?”

 

Aaron thinks about it: rolling fields, miles of twisted woods, dirt roads—the way Eric grew up. He imagines a garden in the backyard, Eric gently tending to plants in a way Aaron has yet to master.

 

It could be good, but, Aaron thinks as he draws the back of his hand across his wet forehead, the place would definitely have to have air conditioning. He doesn’t want to imagine living without it for more than his assigned blocks overseas.

 

“How’s the well coming?”

 

Aaron tries in vain to direct his attention away from the cracks on his hands formed by hours of shoveling. Tries in vain to feel some sort of pride in what he’s contributed. But he knows the good feelings won’t come until later, once he’s returned to the cool air of his apartment and soothing embrace of his boyfriend. Right now, he just feels tired. And hot.

 

“I know you’re still going to be over there for another month no matter what the answer is. I still like to ask. Maybe you’ll surprise me.

 

I feel so selfish. There you are, off saving the world, and all I want is for you to come home. Or for me to be there with you (Though I get the idea I wouldn’t enjoy it too much, the way you describe it). I just really want to see you.”

 

A couple words are smudged, tiny parts of the page ripple by water that once soaked in, but has now dried. It wasn’t sweat that dropped on the paper. Aaron feels that pang in his heart again, picturing Eric hunched over his writing, a few despised tears dripping down.

 

“I miss you, babe. I really miss you.”

 

Aaron wipes his fingertips off on the hem of his shirt before running them over the crinkled page as if brushing the tears off Eric’s cheeks. Eric hates crying, especially hates crying in front of others, Aaron knows, but he likes being held on the odd occasion he ends up in tears. Aaron’s arms automatically twitch up, but all that rests in front of him is the single slip of paper. The distance between them—an entire ocean that usually felt manageable—never seemed so far.

           

“Only one month left, right? You’ll be back before we know it. I’ll be fine.

           

So, back to work. I was thinking, if you’d stayed a politician (us still having met, of course), you could have some pretty great campaign slogans. I personally like ‘Aaron Logan: professional well builder’ or ‘Aaron ~~Ra~~ Logan: winner of ginger’s hearts.’ I could definitely be your campaign manager, if you ever wanted to go back to that. (I’m just kidding. I can barely handle all the people I talk to now, let alone everyone involved in politics.)

           

The corner of Aaron’s mouth twitches us, but he’s still upset. In conversation, he’d bring up Eric’s deflection, his determination to ignore his own heartache, but Eric’s alone right now. He’s not there to comfort him. Aaron’s own eyes grow misty.

           

“I love you. I miss you. I’ll see you soon.

                       

        Love, Eric.

           

P.S. I love you”

           

Aaron closes his eyes, lingers on the longing and love crashing around in his chest. After a moment, he lifts the paper to his face and presses a soft kiss next to Eric’s name, as if he could transfer his affection across an entire ocean in just that motion alone.

           

_I miss you too. I’ll be home soon._

           

Aaron sets the letter down and shuffles his own papers, presses his pen to the top, and begins his reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no sadness and no tears in the next chapter I promise. Just these two being gay and happy and in love.


	20. I Love You Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you"
> 
> "I had a hunch"
> 
> Fifth dates, semi-awkward sexual tension, and love confessions. As it goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was I going to get to "I Love You Kisses" and not go with the iconic first time they said it?
> 
> So, fifth date it is.
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron’s been staring for the last ten minutes. Eric isn’t sure he even knows he’s doing it, but he is. Soft eyes with a hint of a smile at the edges, corners of his mouth titled up—not his usual wide, charming smile; this one’s subtler, more…gentle. He adds in his own short comments to Eric’s story once in a while, but he doesn’t look away.

           

Eric thinks maybe he should be a little weirded out—his mother taught him staring was rude, after all—but there’s something in the sparkle of Aaron’s gaze that just makes his heart fill instead. He realized with a start that he recognizes the expression. He’s seen it before. It’s the way his dad sometimes looked at his mom when she was distracted by other things. Now Aaron directs that attention to him, and his breath catches in his throat.

           

Only for a moment, though, because now Aaron looks concerned. Eric had trailed off in the middle of a sentence, dropped their conversation into unexpected silence. Rather than go back to what he’d been saying, Eric just smiles.

           

“What’s up?” Aaron asks, lifting his hand up from its place in his palm.

           

“Nothing much,” Eric answers. He can hear the flirtatious lilt taking over his own voice. He leans forward and finishes off his drink. “Ready to head out?”

           

Aaron nods. He stands and waits for Eric to join him, immediately twining their fingers together.

           

The two walk slowly beneath golden street lights, occasionally trading jokes among themselves and bumping their shoulders against each other. Eric’s just calming down from his last fit of laughter when the pair stops in front of his apartment building. He doesn’t draw his hand away from Aaron’s. He hesitates before making eye contact, determined to maintain it at least for the length of his question.

           

“Would you like to come in?”

           

Aaron’s eyes widen and he visibly swallows. Then he nods. “Yeah.” His voice comes out slightly strained. He coughs, tries again. “Yeah, I’d like to. If you want me to.”

           

“I do.” Eric starts forward again, pulling Aaron behind him.

           

They’re mostly quiet as the elevator rises and they make their way into Eric’s apartment. Once they’re inside, Aaron instantly drifts over to the mantel, looking over the pictures—mostly of Eric’s sister. He lingers on one in particular: Hannah, three years old, sitting on Eric’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck. He’s holding onto her with one hand and holding a sparkler off in the other. They’re both smiling at someone to the left, out of sight.

           

The photograph sits in the middle of the shelf, right next to Hannah’s first grade yearbook photo. Aaron looks over her wild, thick mess of dark red curls.

           

“Did both of your parents have red hair?”

           

“Oh!” Eric jumps when Aaron’s question breaks the silence. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so tense. “Um, no. Just my mom. My uncle says she must’ve had really strong genes.”

           

“Sure seems like it.”

           

Aaron’s curiosity, his fascination with the pictures, seems a little random, especially with how many times Eric’s shown him pictures of Hannah before. But there’s a new tension crackling between them, a level of expectation that had only been in one conversation prior, right before their first kiss. He wants to talk about odd, simple subjects too, and it takes all his willpower not to start rambling. Instead he focuses on slightly-too-late hospitality.

           

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got tea, soda, beer, water—obviously…”

           

“I’m fine, thanks.” Aaron stops pacing around the room and sinks down onto the couch.

           

Eric pours himself a glass of tea and finally meets Aaron in the living room, sitting next to him. Aaron just stares at the drink, a smile rising to his face.

           

“That is so light. How much sugar’s in it?”

           

Eric holds his cup protectively to his chest. “I’m Southern, okay? Don’t judge.”

           

Aaron laughs, easy and relaxed. Eric joins in, and just like that, the tension eases away.

           

They immediately fall back into the ridiculous jokes they’d made outside. After a few moments, Eric looks up and catches Aaron staring at him with that same look from the restaurant. He calms himself down and takes in the weight of the moment—not unpleasant—soft, lingering giggles, fingers brushing against each other between them, unrestricted, visible adoration.

           

Aaron moves to speak again. Eric expects another joke, but is met with, “I love you.”

           

Eric’s heart stutters. He feels his smile—already large and bright—stretch further. He means to return the sentiment, to reply in the expected—though no less true—way. But instead, with the remaining humor in his mind, he says, “I had a hunch.”

           

Aaron laughs, surprised. “Oh. Alright, Han Solo.”

           

Eric tries to think of something else to say, but his voice feels caught in his throat. Rather using words, he just sets down his glass, leans over, and kisses Aaron.

           

The two stay there for a while, just appreciating the smooth movement of lips together, the warmth of arms wrapped around each other. Over time, Eric is slowly shifted into Aaron lap. Once he’s completely straddling him, Eric leans back to take in Aaron’s expression—and get his breath back.

           

“Hey, Aaron?”

           

“Yeah?”

           

“I love you, too.”

           

Aaron pulls him back into the kiss. Eric responds briefly before standing and holding a hand down to help lift Aaron off the couch.

           

The two walk to Eric’s bedroom, fingers twisted together the whole time. Eric kicks the door shut with his foot, then all they care about is the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is the 20th chapter!! I cannot believe I've been writing this story for 13 months, 11.5k words, and 20 chapters. It's wild.
> 
> Also Eric loves sweet tea because I love sweet tea and I said so.


	21. I Want You Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron may not be able to fully escape the memory of his cruel mother, but at least he has Eric to help him through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the mid-season premiere was yesterday. That was...rough. And there was unfortunately no Aaron. (There are, however, a lot more people joining the "Deny everything about canon" crew)
> 
> I figured I'll offer up my own Aaron moments. So here's some angst.
> 
> Enjoy!

“That’s why he left. It’s your fault.”

           

Aaron hears his mother’s words, over and over. Lines of phantom pain strike across his skin and he flinches from a hand that can’t reach him anymore. There’s alcohol in the air, on her breath, apples and blood on his tongue. She slumps back, then jerks forward with unexpected strength.

           

Aaron shoots upright, clutching the comforter to his chest. There’s a sob stuck in his throat behind gasps for air. Tears slip silently down his face while he struggles to breathe.

           

Eric rolls over to face him. “Aaron?” His voice sounds like it’s traveling through water. All sound is muffled by Aaron’s heartbeat, pounding right beneath his ears.

           

“I’m fine,” Aaron tries, but his voice breaks under just those two words.

           

Eric sits up, taking in Aaron’s trembling arms, his sweat-soaked hair. He frowns, but he doesn’t reach out, for which Aaron is distantly grateful.

           

Aaron experiences everything as if far away—the blanket trapped in his grip, the cool sheets against his legs, the lamp clicking on—everything but his own too-strong pulse.

           

Eric’s talking again, but Aaron can’t hear exactly what is said. He just focuses on the gentle sound and tries to pull himself closer to it. Gradually, his heartbeat slows to its normal pace and breaths come easier.

           

Words begin to emerge as the roar dulls, and Aaron realizes that Eric’s rambling about something his sister did. It’s something simple about wrapping paper and glitter. Nothing serious. Nothing dangerous.

           

Aaron slowly relaxes and Eric smiles, continuing the story until the tension’s almost completely faded.

           

“Nightmare?” Eric stretches a hand out, stopping halfway between their bodies, letting Aaron decide.

           

“No.” Aaron reaches out, twirls their fingers together and squeezes. “Memories.”

           

The first time Aaron told Eric about his mother followed a similar breakdown. All he could think about was the salmon on the plate in front of him. “Fish for dinner,” they said. Because they knew. They knew. They had to. He hadn’t hidden it well enough. He was too obvious, still too feminine even under layers of forced masculinity. He rushed away from the table, claiming a stomach ache, leaving his food untouched. When Eric checked on him, the truth just poured out. A week later, Aaron would claim it was because of Eric’s friendly and charming aura. A year later, he would admit it was because he already loved Eric enough to trust him.

           

Eric’s arms wrap around him, and Aaron drops his forehead onto Eric’s shoulder.

           

His mother’s voice starts up in his head again, scorning him as he returns the hug. He tries to push her back, holding Eric close. Even still, he begins shaking again. Eric tries to lean back, but Aaron stays pressed against him.

           

“What’s wrong, babe? What do you want me to do?”

           

Aaron tries to figure out what he wants, only comes up with one answer.

           

“Do you want me to leave?”

           

Aaron shakes his head. “Stay. Please. I want you here.”

           

“You want a man? Really? Guess you are just a—”

           

Aaron leans up and kisses Eric—partly to block out the shrill comments in his mind, partly to reassure himself that he’s here in this moment, untouchable by his past. He leans back, taking in Eric’s silhouette against the dim lamp light.

           

“I just want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously I can't wait until Aaron and Enid come back so Aaron can chill with Glenn, Maggie, Eric, and Gracie again and Enid can go on more adorable dates with Carl. Love this show (The show's called Denial).


	22. I Need You Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric would do anything to keep Aaron safe.
> 
> Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a first time for everything, right? And in the apocalypse, that includes killing other people. #justlittlehusbandthings
> 
> Enjoy!

The monster shambles along—bloody pants’ cuff bunched about a broken foot. The knuckle of a grey hand cracks as boney fingers clutch at dry branches. Thorny vines droop from the canopy and latch into the creature’s shirt. It struggles against the greenery, only tangling itself further.

           

Eric flinches at the first glimpse of it, only relaxing slightly when he realizes it’s stuck. His grip on his knife tightens, but he decides it’s better to just leave the thing there. _It’s a corpse. It can’t suffer. Let some other fool take on thorns to put it down._

           

Leaves crunch ahead. Eric drops to a crouch, twirling his knife as he does. Aaron’s calm voice comes first. Then a woman—voice fast, panicked.

           

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

           

“Okay? Okay? It’s okay. It’s not.”

           

Eric peers through a gap in the bushes. Aaron still tries to placate the woman, but she shakes, eyes flickering wildly about.

           

“Please, ma’am. We’ve got a town—”

           

“Not anymore! No one left!”

           

“There are walls to protect us.”

           

“Protect? They can’t. Nothing can.” The woman freezes, but her eyes still don’t focus. They’re too distant, too haunted. “We all gotta go.”

           

Eric stiffens and pushes himself a little further up. There’s a new edge to the woman now—something sharp, dangerous.

           

“Not anymore,” Aaron reassures.

           

But the woman shakes her head. “No. No, we do. You can try. Try try try. But it will happen.”

           

“We can beat this.”

           

“No one can beat God. His plan—”

           

Eric notices the gun before Aaron does.

           

The woman pulls it out and points it forward. Before he knows what he’s doing, Eric’s up. The woman’s back is turned to him, and if she hears his movements, she doesn’t react. She just keeps the barrel trained at Aaron’s head.

           

“Don’t you see? The dead. They come back. People try to outrun death, don’t see it’s what we’re meant to be.” She shifts her finger onto the trigger. “It’s what you’re going to…be.”

           

The first thing Eric processes after her words is the warmth pouring down his hand. He refuses to look down, to acknowledge the point where he slid the knife so easily into her abdomen. He pulls back—blade and all—and the woman drops to her knees.

           

Eric doesn’t know what to do. He feels frozen until he hears the crack of the gun, sees the ground explode by Aaron’s feet.

           

“We…all…must…” The woman struggles to choke her few words out, but all Eric notices is the terror in Aaron’s eyes, the deep hole dug so close to him. Then the freeze melts away. And all he feels is burning rage.

 

           

He loses track of how many times he strikes. He sits on top of the woman, legs drenched in red, bringing the knife down over and over. He doesn’t see a body anymore. Instead, each blow pierces through the few previous months.

           

Pull up. Swing down. _Their apartment, probably completely ravaged by now._

           

Pull up. Swing down. _His sister he’s probably been permanently separated from—13._

           

Pull up. Swing down. _Mariel’s fever. Her voice cracking, coughing, breaking into growls._

           

The wood handle of the knife is slippery with blood. Aaron is completely silent. _Again._

           

Pull up. Swing down. _The bullet buried underneath his feet. The monster whose teeth tore his sleeve, so close to the skin. The rattle of undead fists against a wall that can’t last forever. Accepting he’ll never be safe again._

           

The first rough groan beneath him snaps Eric out of his trance. He sees a face—fully human besides white film drawn over bloodshot eyes—stretch to bite him. Once more.

           

Pull up. Swing down. Nothing.

 

           

Aaron’s still silent when Eric turns around. He’s sitting, knees pulled up to his chest. His arms are wrapped around his legs; his gaze is directed solidly at the ground.

           

“Aaron?” Eric almost retracts from his own voice, so startling in the sudden silence of the forest.

           

No response.

           

“Aaron?” Eric tries again. He eases towards him, and sighs in relief when the other man doesn’t flinch away. He stops once they’re almost touching. He wants to reach out, comfort Aaron in some way, but he caused this. He doesn’t want to frighten him any further.

           

Aaron isn’t shying away from him, but Eric still has to ask, “Did I scare you? Are you…Are you scared of me?”

           

Aaron looks up without answering. His eyes aren’t as distant as before, and he seems to search for something in Eric’s own. Whatever it is, Aaron must find it, because he relaxes, lifting his arms to his knees and resting his head on top of them.

           

“You know I would never hurt you, right?”

           

Aaron nods.

           

“Are you mad at me? Or upset?”

           

Aaron shakes his head. “I’m not upset with you.” He looks beyond Eric, at the corpse strewn across the soft floor. “Or mad. Well, I am mad. But not at you. At them.”

           

“Them?”

           

“Her. The bandits. The dead. All of it. But not you.” Aaron uncurls and grabs Eric’s hands, seemingly uncaring of the blood coating both of them. Coating all of him. “We have to go. It’s looks clear now, but that gunshot was loud.”

           

“We need guns.”

           

“What?”

           

“Before we go out again, we need to tell Deanna we need guns. I don’t want that,” Eric gestures back, though he won’t look, “to happen again.”

           

Aaron nods, and the two stand.

           

“You know I would do anything to protect you, right? Anything. If it meant you would be safe. Because you and I will get through this together.” Eric brushes one hand against Aaron’s check. He grimaces when a thin layer of red follows the action. “I need you.”

           

“I’m here.”

           

“I need you safe.”

           

“I’m safe.”

           

“We’re okay?”

           

“We’re okay.”

           

They both lean in for a short, soft kiss. It feels off somehow, too normal. Eric thinks maybe it should taste like blood or sweat, but it doesn’t, not really. Maybe it should be intense, powered by adrenaline that should be pumping through them. But mostly, Eric feels tired. And numb. And he assumes Aaron is as well.

           

In the night, Eric will struggle to sleep, staring at the dark RV ceiling. When he finally manages to drift off, it will be a fitful rest that ends abruptly with a nightmare and tears and the memory of Too Much Blood. He’ll embrace Aaron, not truly sure who’s crying more, until the sun rises. They’ll drive home in silence to repeat the night in their house, within the walls.

           

But for now, the two just stand hand-in-hand. Eric pulls away briefly to retrieve his knife, tucking it—still crimson and tacky—into its holster. Then he grabs Aaron’s hand once again and the two disappear into the trees, first encounter with the corruption of the ended world left bleeding behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world isn't friendly anymore when everything's fallen apart, but at least these boys still got each other (and Eric's knife). 
> 
> Also, I have a YouTube channel now! Throwing that out here because [ my third video was me making Aaron and Eric Pop Figures.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gaiu9fWa7wc)


	23. Rain Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apocalypse ruined the possibility of a lot of date ideas. Dancing in the rain was not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter back in February and somehow forgot about it, so here it is now.
> 
> Just in time for rain season, it seems.
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron sat down on a small metal bench, watching Eric check over his sprouts. Tiny bulbs are just beginning to peak through the soft dirt. Eric smiles at each of them, counting out loud every time he spots green.

           

“Going good?” Aaron asks when Eric leans back on his heels.

           

“For the most part.” Eric touches the soil with his fingertips. But it’s too dry. I hope it rains. I don’t want to have to use our water on them.”

           

“Looks like it’s about to.” Grey clouds gather in the distance.

           

Eric stands and brushes his palms off on his thighs, nodding as he does. “We’d better get inside then. Lunch?”

           

“Sounds good.”

           

When the two step in their house, Eric immediately whisks away to wash the dust off his hands. Aaron lays ingredients for sandwiches across the counter. Eric re-enters the kitchen as Aaron finally sets the loaf of bread down.

           

The men prepare their food side-by-side, teasing each other for combinations they have long-since memorized. After their sandwiches are fully arranged, they move to the living room to observe the world through their window as they eat.

           

Just as Eric sets his empty plate down, the first drops of rain sprinkle across the town. They tap against glass panes, exploding on impact. Some splatters bond together and slip down the window’s slick surface. Aaron and Eric pick their own droplets to cheer on as if in a professional race.

           

“Come on, Dewey. You can do it,” Aaron encourages as hid bead draws sideways into other streams.

           

“Just follow gravity,” Eric advises.

           

“Pay attention to your own racer.”

           

“Oh,” Eric turns to Aaron with a smirk.”H2-GO reached the bottom when Dewey got lost the first time.”

           

“No he didn’t.”

           

Eric nods. “I was just waiting to see if little Dewey here would ever find his way down.” A strong gust of wind whips across the side of the house, ripping all the water back into the air. “I guess that’s a no.”

           

Aaron stares at the now-empty spot where his drop once rested. “He was so young.”

           

“He’s moved onto new and definitely not better windows. If he can find them, I mean.”

           

Aaron playfully shoves Eric’s shoulder. Eric jumps up beside the couch and stretches a hand down. “Come on. I won. You know what that means.”

           

Aaron follows as Eric leads him back into the garage, whose giant metal door stands open, even in the rain.

           

“You’re using your victory to get me to close the garage door?” Competition rules: winner can make the loser do whatever he wants. Aaron expected a little more than this.

           

“Of course not.” Eric walks on alone now, straight into the rain. “Come dance with me.”

           

“Is it cold?”

           

Eric laughs and tilts his head back toward the sky. “Yes.”

           

“We’re both going to be cold.”

           

“Come on. You know you love cheesy romance.” Eric spins around, arms outstretched. “Besides,” he finishes with a smirk thrown Aaron’s way, “they say the best way to get warm again is cuddling naked.”

           

Aaron steps into the rain, pulling Eric to his chest. “Do they now?”

           

Eric nods, then rests his head against Aaron’s chest. Aaron tightens his grip on Eric’s waist as the other man loops his arms around his neck. The two sway to their own song formed by the howl of the wind and the drum of rain against the walls.

           

They stay in the moment of peace until a harsh breeze leaves them both shivering. Eric straightens up and presses a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “Thanks for humoring me.”

           

“Anything for the victor.” Aaron tilts his head and leans back down for a solid, fuller kiss. “Now how about that warming up you mentioned earlier?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ever race rain droplets? It's fun. Except when the wind comes and steals your racer.
> 
> Also, let's act like mosquitos aren't a threat. We'll just say they die when they drink walker blood and so they can't spread the disease or anything.


	24. Beach Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard not to imagine how good life might be if the dead returned to being JUST dead. At least, it is for Aaron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely because I just wanted to write some things about future Gracie down but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Who doesn't love a good parenting story?
> 
> Enjoy!

Aaron imagines, sometimes, what life might be like if the dead stopped coming back. Occasionally, when he finds a rare moment alone in peace, he allows himself to get lost in fantasies. Like now. Slouching further back into the couch. He can see it.

 

-

 

It is a beach, stretching for miles to the left and right, ocean in front. The shore is empty except for them. No neighbors. No Saviors. No dead. He stands at the edge of the water, letting waves gently brush his bare feet. He closes his eyes to listen. The rolling sea, seagull calls, footsteps splashing behind him.

           

Someone hurls chill water at his back, leaving goose bumps behind. He turns around, expecting Eric, but the other man is still reading his book under the umbrella. Standing behind Aaron, water to her shins, is Gracie.

           

She’s older now—eight or so—and mischievous. Aaron and Eric almost worry about leaving her with Rick, about what schemes she and Judith will come up with if left together. But she’s a good kid—modelled after family. Aaron’s honestly, Eric’s wits, Maggie’s strength, Enid’s resilience. She’s great. But right now, as she scoops more water into her small arms, Aaron only sees her devious spark.

           

He shields his eyes as salty drops fly up again. Then he lifts Gracie where her arms can’t reach the waves. She squirms, but his grip is solid. He starts walking backward, feeling as the water rises.

           

The water reaches his chest. He keeps Gracie’s head safely above the surface. The waves aren’t particularly high, she’s fine. Still, she wiggles again and cries out, “Papa! Papa save me!”

           

“I’m not here!” Eric calls back.

           

“You’re fine, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Something in the water catches Aaron’s eye. “Look, look.”

           

Gracie relaxes to watch as a turtle slides past them. It’s big and beautiful, green and gentle in ways Aaron almost forgot things could be. It appears completely unperturbed by intruders in its realm. Perhaps it’s forgotten humans, the danger they once posed to nature. Or maybe it senses a lack of threat from the pair—better able to distinguish between good and evil than the humans themselves. It dips back into the deep blue and disappears into the sea. There’s a moment of silence, both staring where the animals once was, before Gracie pounces into her usual young excitement.

           

“Wow! That was so cool. He looked like he was flying.”

           

“He sure did.” Aaron glances back to the shore. Eric set his book down at some point and now focused solely on the two in the water. “Let’s head back. Want to swim?”

           

Gracie throws her arms around Aaron’s neck and tucks her head on his shoulder.

           

“Alright, then. I’ll carry you.

           

Eric meets them at the shoreline. He’s wearing a shirt over his swim trunks and likely more sunscreen than the other two combined.

           

“Did you guys have fun?”

           

“Yes!” Gracie cheers. Aaron sets her down and moves to stand next to Eric. “We saw a turtle!” She stretches her arms out to the sides as if she were the turtle, soaring through infinite stretches of brilliant blue.

           

“That’s great, princess.”

           

Gracie gasps as she’s hit with a new idea. “We should build a sand castle.”

           

“Good idea. We should all work on it.” Aaron can’t resist a small jab. “If you’re done hiding from the sun, that it.”

           

Eric narrows his eyes. “If I end up sunburnt, I’m blaming you.” He turns to Gracie, who’s already shoveling sand into an old bucket. “But a sand castle sounds wonderful.”

           

The three sit in a tight triangle around rough mounds of sand. It’s hard to achieve anything that truly looks like a castle—the nice plastic molds of Before broke long ago. Even so, Gracie beams at the creation when she stabs a tiny stick flag on top.

           

“This beach is our kingdom. I am the princess,” she declares.

           

“Who are we?” Eric asks. He’s finishing a tiny cube he claims is a horse stable. Aaron is trying to make the moat around the castle even.

           

“You’re the second-in-command.”

           

“We both are.”

           

“Mhmm.”

           

“Why aren’t we the kings?”

           

“Because I’m in charge of the kingdom.”

           

“But the father of the princess is the king.”

           

“Second-in-command.”

           

“Okay then.” Aaron laughs at his daughter’s over-eager attitude. “Do you have any knights?”

           

She thinks for a moment, then confidently answers, “Sir Turtleman.”

           

“He’s your knight?”

           

“He’s the best knight. He can fly.”

           

Eric laughs and wraps his arm around Aaron’s waist. “Did you hear that? He can fly.”

           

Aaron leans into the touch. “He really can. You should have seen him.”

           

“Really sounds like I should have.”

           

Aaron presses a kiss to Eric’s sandy cheek. “Was your book interesting, at least?”

           

“Watching you two have fun was more interesting.” Eric tilts his head and pushes their salty lips chastely to each other.

           

“Oh no!” Gracie cries. The men look up just in time to see the rising tide crash easily over their shallow moat and take out a corner of their castle.

           

“Oh. We must have built too close to the water.”

           

“Guess we’ll just have to rebuild somewhere safer.”

           

Maybe after that they’d go home and sleep peacefully through the night. Those would their usual nights. Nightmares more memory than imagination—dead eating friends, bullets ripping through them, guns and the tree and _almost_ —would have dwindled from their once-nightly occurrences. Eric’s cheeks would be red, but not terribly so.

           

That night, Aaron would hold his husband close, and think of their daughter in the next room over. How lucky they were to be alive. How lucky they were to be safe. How lucky.

 

-           

 

“Aaron, honey, are you awake?”

           

Aaron’s pulled out of his fantasy, back into the present. He had drifted into a world that doesn’t exist (yet, he likes to think). But Eric is standing here _now_. He holds a sleeping Gracie to his chest. Sure, there are dead shambling outside the walls, unknown threats possibly lurking nearby. Eric hasn’t even fully recovered yet. But they’re okay. Eric is smiling and Gracie babbles to something in her own dream.

           

So yeah, Aaron thinks.

           

This is pretty good too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even in the imaginary world, Eric has to hide from the dangers of the sun.
> 
> Gracie and Aaron were both barely in the finale (and Eric was also distinctly not present [yes I'm still upset]). So here they all are. Happy. Not dead. 
> 
> Good times. Good times.

**Author's Note:**

> You can talk to me about the perfection that is Aaron and Eric at my Tumblr --> izziegs.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, and I wish y'all a happy new year!


End file.
